BloodTies
by Typist Massacre
Summary: Post film. With the return of Black Hat comes the return of the war. A mysterious child with a recessive trait is taken by him and the church unleashes a new breed of assassins to take down the girl, Priest and Priestess. OC/BH. R&R
1. Introduction

The setting sun was obscured by a constant stream of black clouds drifting into the sky from its place of birth. The train wreckage had become a coffin made of flames and twisted metal for the army that had been trapped inside it when the bombs went off. Bits of the locomotive's metallic body were scattered across the cracked, dried desert floor with slabs of flesh that escaped the licks of fire and the rays of sunlight while polluting the sky above it, the air around the wreckage was heavy with the stench of charred flesh, crude oil, boiled blood and old burning coal.

The battle had been won but the war was still nowhere close to being over. Not while a figure, the only survivor of this massacre, crawled from his own burning coffin, with skin blacked from fire and body weakened and just barely holding onto life. He needed to feed, needed to feel the rush of blood entering his body to aid the delicate tissues and strong bones fusing back together to make him whole once more. But most of the pieces of flesh had been dried out from the sun or cooked through; even splashes of blood that had hit the desert floor were nothing more than colored dirt. The charred man gasped for air and for life to return to his body, reaching out for anything. The smallest drop of blood would do. There was a rule that, for whatever reason, one should not feast upon the dead because it was like poison or empty calories - he wasn't sure which tale was true but if he dearly wished to not become a member of this class of nonliving persons and creatures, he would have to find his next meal fast. As he crawled against the ground, a trail of soot and bits of burnt flesh followed behind him, mapping out his route from where he originated on his current aimless journey. Every breath was a struggle, every drag of his body across the burning earth a death slightly larger than the last. Time was running out and so was the daylight. With his eyes nearly gone, he had never felt more human with his self-defeated dependency for what little sunlight remained in these final moments of dusk. However, his drive to survive greatly outweighed his pride. A faint wind picked up, blowing the smoke trails towards the mountains painted into the background of night and with the change of wind came a change in the scent of the air. The blackened figure paused and lifted his head, his skin crackling and pulling away at his neck as he did so, to take in a deep breath, picking up a faint hint of exactly what he was looking for. Slowly and determined, he crawled towards the scent, more pieces of his being flaking off against the rough ground and painting his path against the white soil.

Now within reaching distance, the corpse of a Familiar was his salvation and he pulled himself on top of the dead halfling and sank his teeth into its neck. Like thick molasses sweetened with rot, the liquid took more effort than he expected to suck through the bite wound, however it was not the taste nor the pressure of his mouth that made him turn violently ill from the feast, but rather the sensation of dead blood coursing through his veins. He could feel what remained of his living tissue collide with the dead blood, two worlds clashing within him to repair the damage that had been done. The only saving grace was that Familiar blood was still considered human blood, but just more infected with the natural toxins that came with a vampire's bite. Dead, half human blood could do the job of regenerating burnt flesh, torn ligaments, and weaving muscle tissue back together but the settling of bones, the sacred house of his life source, was a pained cancer. In the covenant, you are taught to fear the fires of hell, the mouths of a thousand demons licking away at you with heated tongue and sharpened claws. Surely, his bones had been sent there and were being shoved back into his battered form. Convulsing, he held in a sharp breath as he rolled onto his back, facing the pale moon who watched him suffer silently, listening to the ever growing sound of bones shifting as they realigned themselves within the flesh that held them. Splinters fused with the marrow and a heartbeat that he had nearly forgotten as his own pounded in his ears. Bits of blackened and charred skin and meat fell off his body, revealing regenerated flesh that was pink with birth and sensitive to the cold air that nipped away at it. Cast in a blanket of never ending hurt, the figure could not maintain his silence anymore and let out a devilish yell the moment the vertebrae of his spine snapped back together and pulled themselves into a line.

The rebirth had been just as violent and painful as his death, or perhaps even more so coming from the inside-out and so he lay there, under the night sky looking up at it with fresh eyes that made the sky shine with an array of dark colours that swept across space and made each star explode like a supernova. These were the eyes of a vampire. He paused to take his first real breath with his new lungs, feeling the pink organs expand and fit right into the pattern naturally and not constricted with the contamination of smoke. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sounds of his new body, the current of blood rushing through his veins, the steady heartbeat of a thing that once was fully human, the soft brush of air passing into his lungs and out through his mouth. Even his teeth spoke to him, demanding to feel the rush of fresh, warm flesh against them through puncture wounds. At last he lifted himself up from the ground, each muscle aching and refusing the commands coming from his brain; lean forward, balance weight onto one foot, stumble and try to maintain balance once more in the dance of a newborn in a body that was not used to such complicated movements. And this tired him out so quickly that even his eyes lost focus for a moment of two, creating tunnel vision and making him almost fall back against the hard surface of the Earth. But this was not the fault of new muscles and tendons, this was starvation and a need for blood with sustenance to maintain the energy needed to keep him functional. The dead blood had done its job but it would do nothing else to keep him going and any more than what he had already taken would be close to suicide. Taking a moment to let his eyes refocus and adjust, he noticed an unmanned motorcycle in the distance and thanked whatever GOD there was who would allowed him to survive the explosion and pull himself back together, almost quiet literally. Heavy footsteps made their way towards the bike, taking more effort than the last to proceed and growing louder in his ears, accompanied by the growing struggle of breathing. His last footstep was softened by something. There was no crunch of desert soil, sharp scrape of metal against the ground or even an uneasy sensation of flattening flesh. He looked down and saw a familiar shape in the dark scorched along the edges but relatively unscathed. A grunt escaped his lips as he bent down and retrieved his hat, dusting the ash and sand off its surface before placing it on his head.

The electronic roar of the bike greeted him and he ran his hand over the chipped dashboard surface before he gripped the accelerator tightly and drove off into the night. Things were starting to look up already.


	2. Blessed

England 1311

A horse's nervous whine rose above the sound of long burning wood and metal armor clattering together against the bodies of the knights who approached what remained of a farming village on the outskirts of kingdom's walls. Evidence of the attack's brutality was made more apparent by the countless bodies that lay mutilated or drained of blood along the once busy market streets. True to the monsters' nature, not even the youngest of infants were spared as they feed upon civilians to support their growing numbers and fled into the very woods that aided them in the ambush. With their horses catching the scent horror that was once there, the knights treaded slowly and encouraged their steeds further into the carnage, guiding them to avoid corpses and fallen wooden structures while keeping their eyes sharp for any dangers that may be lurking amongst the rubble. A wounded vampire left behind or a recently turned familiar was always an idea lingering in the back of a knight's mind when coming across the remains of an attack.

"It appears no survivors would be a likely outcome of this recent attack," spoke a younger knight to his captain - a man whose beard was as red as a brush fire and a face as stern and unchanging as if it had been cut from stone. The man's grey eyes remained keen, even after the young man announced his opinion and he ventured on, sword at the ready and a tight grip on the lead of his horse. Upon his breast, a bright, yellow sun was painted upon his armor, blessed by the King's priest, proving himself to be a fearless leader and successful at vampire slaying. He pressed on, the other knights following close behind him when he stopped and turned his head, trying to focus on something that caught his attention. The younger man and the one beside him were quick to grab the handles of their swords and watched their leader for any indication for them to attack. A sound cut through the air and all of them readied their blade, their horses letting out a whine of surprise and resisting the urge to rear up and flee from the scene. From a collapsed vendor's post, a hand snaked its way through the gaps of fallen wood and with it came an arm and then a whole man covered in blood and dirt. The man groaned as he moved his aching bones and crawled out from the rubble with what little strength remained. The Sun Knight raised his arm, signalling for his men to hold their position and keep ready in case the man turned on them. Instead, the man looked up and gazed at the knights with his brown eyes, the early stages of middle age showing on his freshly wrinkled face. His beard was caked with blood and mud and his swollen bottom lip showed the wound, telling the origin of the blood. His face was thin and marks where his bones were most prominent indicated that it had taken little effort for the skin break over the surface of the sharp edges of his cheekbones.

The man lifted his head and gazed upon the Sun knight and his two young sides, the youngest looking no more than an adolescent recently risen from his page status and eyes as blue as the sky in spring. The other man had a defying square jaw and thin lips, looking hardened and constantly battle ready, probably the kind who finds a thrill in the slaughters of battle. "Help, please," the man groaned as his eyes pleaded the desperation in his message to the three knights, grateful when the Sun Knight lowered his hand and allowed the other two to advance upon him and drag him out of the wreckage. "Ah, many blessings from our LORD for your kindness, your honors-" his words were cut off by the feeling of sharp, cold metal pressing against his throat. The blue eyed boy turned to his partner, the stern warrior, "Why do you press your blade to a survivor's throat, Vincent?"

"My liege," Vincent called out with a deep voice that could easily be mistaken for thunder, "there is a mark upon this man's throat. I believe he has been bit." The blue eyed knight leaned over to examine the wound and was astonished to see the bite mark, reacting like his partner and holding his blade against any vital exposed area of flesh. Now battered, bleeding and a witness to the massacre of hundreds, the man's life may end by the hands of knights and not monsters, and he laughed inwardly at this premise. With his own sword ready, the Sun Knight approached the man and held his blade out, edging the tip towards the center of his chest, "Were you bit?"

The man closed his eyes, recalling the events of the attack in his head. Yes, he had a vampire latch onto him before slaying the beast with a stake of wood he had managed to get his hands onto; when the two of them fell to the ground, the impact of the monster's weight upon him was enough to send the tip in to piece the creature's heart.

The Sun Knight pressed the end of his sword hard against his skin, "Were you bit or not?"

Feeling his own mortality once more, the man let out a shaky breath, "Yes."

"Then let us slay him before he turns," the youngest man shouted and gripped his blade tighter. Unlike his partner, he dreaded the feel of flesh cutting across his blade but knew the necessity of it and the actions of his voice and body marked him as such.

"Sir Ronald, hold your sword," The Sun Knight demanded, all the while never taking his eyes off the man before them, held to the spot by the point of three blades. The older man looked around the village, scanning their surroundings and making a note of the rays of sunlight that managed to make it through the bellows of smoke that rose above them. He was quiet for a long time, the light in his eyes showing he was deep in thought. At last, his grey eyes returned to look at the kneeling figure to catch sight of a merchant's satchel, "What do you keep with you in that bag?"

The man looked up to the two knights at his side wondering if was safe to open it and show the Sun Knight to plead his case but decided against it, figuring any sudden movement may provoke them to slit his throat before a single word escaped his lips, "I-I am a merchant. These are what little goods I have left from the attack. Please, I beg you good sirs, I am not a threat."

With a nod of his head towards, Vincent held his blade closer to the merchant's throat as he leaned forward to open the satchel and expose the goods kept within: a change purse, bottles of spices from Italy and a merchant's map to various ports, merchant's guilds and travel paths. The items in his bag were all harmless and nothing to indicate he was involved in any kind of witchcraft or was in alliance with the Devil to try to explain his miraculous survival or inability to change into a Familiar after being fed upon. "Merchant goods, my liege," announced Vincent and turned his head to his leader, who lowered his blade and sheathed it, "You will come with us, merchant. Any sign of hostility or suspicious action and I will not hesitate to have my knights slay you." 

The journey was long and tiresome for the merchant, who was given no horse to ride and had to be constantly aware of his own actions and the eyes of the knights who never let him stray from their sight and nudged him onward with the tips of their swords. He could not even relieve himself in privacy as there was always someone watching him with their weapon ready to strike him down. Yet, in an age of vampires attacks increasing day by day and the prospect of humans turning into willing slaves to these dark creatures, the merchant couldn't find it in him to be angry at the knights for their precautionary actions; he was bit after all and how he had not turned into any of those less than human creatures escaped him. It was days later when the merchant learned that the destination of their journey would be the Castle Walls of one of the last remaining kingdoms still standing in these dark times. Upon their arrival, the guards at the gate bowed their heads and slapped their fists against their chests upon seeing the Sun Knight before raising the iron door to allow them access.

"All hail, the King has returned," a messenger announced to the outdoor court and the guards rushed to form a line in either side of their path. The Sun Knight raised his hand at his subjects and proceeded to take off his helmet as they approached the castle entrance stairs. There to welcome him back were three elderly men drabbed in red robes, each with a sun crest placed somewhere on their person.

"Welcome back, your majesty," the first of the three spoke with outstretched hands and a smile upon his aged face. His hair was thin and the white fuzz created a halo effect upon his skull's crown in the sunlight. He was a stout, fat man whose sun crest hung off his neck by a thick, gold chain.

"I had no doubt that GOD would smile upon you and keep you safe on your journey," the second man added as he approached; his hair had long since gone and his face was much thinner and more hollow from his counterpart. His thin lips never once cracked into a smile, but remained heavy, brought by the life of constant prayer and worship. His crest hung from his waist, wrapped around a rosary and cross and with every movement he made it was accompanied by the rattling of metallic beads slapping against each other and his thigh. The King greeted his welcomers with a smile and after he had lowered himself from his horse's back, a stable boy instantly taking the horse away to be tucked away to its stable to be fed, watered and groomed.

"GOD has indeed smiled upon all of us for we did not come across any form of danger at any point in our travel. The village was indeed attacked by vampires; there can be no mistake in that. This means they are starting to venture deeper and deeper within our kingdom and we must prepare ourselves for battle at any moment." The King announced. The two elderly men nodded their heads and made a series of sounds in agreement to this grave news.

The third man remained silent, looking past the king at something he found far more curious. He was a tall man whose white hair was kept tidy and pulled back, with a face heavy with age and skin, jowls making his expression seem even grimmer. Upon his person he kept a small pouch attached to his waist and close to his clasped hands which were thick from arthritis and upon his ring finger was a ring adorned the sun crest. The king then turned to him, "what say you? Why have you turned so still and silent? Do you not wish me well greetings upon my safe return?"

"Do forgive me, your majesty, but I could not help but notice the stranger who accompanies your party," The physician looked over the King's shoulder and continued watching the merchant from where he stood. The King nudged closer to the physician, lowering his mouth to the man's ear to keep this quiet, "he is a survivor of the attack. I want you to take him to your chambers and examine him. Leave no inch of skin unexamined and tell me your findings." Eyes widened, the man leaned away from the King, "You have brought with you a man from the village? Remarkable he was not bit."

"That's exactly why I want you to examine him," the king continued, "he has been." The physician's face drained of color and turned almost a sickly grey until he gazed back to the stranger and nodded, both horrified and intrigued by him, "I will bring him up to my chambers at once."

All he wanted was a warm bed, a hot meal and a strong drink, but instead the merchant received a hard chair and the privilege of being poked, prodded and examined by an old man in a cold room for what seemed like hours. The room was littered with glass tubes and flasks of all sizes, some colored with potent concoctions, and others with plants and preserved animal parts. A display of knives shone menacingly in the candle light across the room next to medical books and a copy of the Bible, worn from use - far more than any other book in the room. The merchant had to sit quietly and patiently as the physician sliced his skin with a small blade and watched to see how his body reacted before proceeding to examine the bite wound upon his neck and any other markings he had. Every moment the old man looked at him, the more he could sense this man had no more answers then anyone else was willing to give him about his miraculous escape. A knock at the door pulled the man away from him and they both turned their heads to watch the King and the two older men from earlier entire, a soft glow radiating off their skin from the candle light and a hard shine from the sun crests. "You've had your time and I've been patient. What have you found?" demanded the King. The physician approached the King slowly, every step he took heavy. He had found nothing special to explain the man's inability to change and survive with nothing more than a wound that would prove the identity of his attacker, which made The King upset with the lack of answers the examination brought him. "This can be nothing more than witchcraft. Surely this man has given himself over to the devil for such power," the holy man snarled through yellowed teeth, his sunken eyes glaring at the merchant.

"Or perhaps it is the other powers to be that have blessed him," the stout man argued, hoping for the King and the Man of Cloth to see it another way. "Speak what you are suggesting," the King turned to his advisor who grinned and signalled for the men to lean in closer. "This man could be our saving grace. A man blessed by the powers of GOD. Think about it, good sirs. A man who can be bit and stay human? Imagine how strong our forces will be if we had a man like that? Or men! What makes us not think that if he is blessed by GOD then surely the LORD smiles upon him and his family?"

"But what if the man has no family? What are we to do with that?" The King argued. The advisor only smiled, "One can make a family and have children with any maiden of their liking."

"You are speaking of sin," the priest narrowed his eyes at the advisor.

"I am not!" the stout man said defensively, "I am only trying to find a solution to our vampire plight. Our army is at its weakest after our unfortunate loss during the last great vampire war. This could be our chance! Your majesty," he redirected his attention to the silent king, "Who knows when they will strike again with such numbers. If we are to have any chance of defeating the monsters, then should we not give this a chance? Let us be wise and not turn down our sudden luck; this gift from GOD."

The King and his Priest exchanged looks, their old brains considering the man's proposal. Perhaps it was not luck that allowed the merchant to survive but he had indeed been graced by the hand of GOD and sent to the King, making their chance encounter fate instead of coincidence. At last, the priest nodded in agreement, "Perhaps I was too quick to blame the dark forces. We have surpassed our neighbouring kingdoms, so truly we are favoured by GOD almighty and for him to send us this man would only further prove his love for us and your reign, my liege."

"Then it is settled. The man will be a guest within my kingdom and treated as my brother. When he bares children, we will make them into great knights. What army of vampires can take down knights who cannot be affected by their poison?" The King declared.

The merchant was treated to his heart's desire that night, as well as the night after and every other night that followed. He dined with the king and feasted upon fine meats and drank from golden goblets as he sat, dressed in fine linen and silk. The King appointed him his personal merchant and from there he advised him what foreign items would fetch a handsome price and what was worth any amount of gold or attention. Women of immense beauty held conversation with him as they drank the finest of wines long into the night and he shared his bed with almost every other. As the months went on, his eyes and heart fell for one woman of grace and beauty that he had never encountered before. She was the daughter of a duchess and had not yet been promised to any royalty, with a petite frame and childlike face that never left his sight whenever the two inhabited the same room. One night, he approached the King, who had been rather insistent that he should choose a wife soon, and told him of the elegant woman of his heart's desire. Of course, the King's lips were pressed hearing the news but he had been told that this man was blessed by GOD himself and he arranged to have them married, despite the words of concerns from his other advisors and the royal court.

The merchant and his young wife had two sons, within two years' time and when the boys were of age, the king convinced the merchant to allow their sons to follow the path to knighthood. One night, as the village rested their weary heads for the night, the warning bells chimed and the horns were blown. Vampires were spotted and had started climbing the walls that protected the castle from the outside world but now proved to be nothing more than an inconvenience to the beasts whose sharp talons easily dug into the stone work and hurled themselves towards the top. Guards lined up and fired row upon row of arrows down at them, some creatures being hit mortally, others shaking off the arrows and advancing with haste, their teeth bared and their wet bodies shining in the moonlight. Within the castle, knight readied themselves and frightened staff and royalty found shelter in their bed chambers and behind closed doors. The merchant held his wife close to him as the screams of servants inside and the snarls of monsters just out the window clashed in an orchestra of fear and panic. She wept in his arms, terrified and praying for the safety of their sons who were living amongst the knights in the neighbouring tower. It was only a matter of time until the beasts made it over the walls and guards bared their swords and shields, striking the intruders down to the best of their ability. For every vampire that met its end, three men followed in death and the creatures gained more access within the castle's walls. Shouts from knights below and the clash of steel added to the symphony of war and the battle raged on. Only the threat of sunrise forced the creatures to fall back but not without leaving a massacre behind them and the gruesome task for the survivors to strike down those infected. Dawn's light blinked into their bed chambers and the merchant lifted his head from his wife's golden hair to take a look outside to see the damage done.

The king, adorned in his armor walked solemnly through what remained of his castle and called for a meeting amongst the royal court and all those who were lucky enough to survive the night. The grand throne room was a sorry sight as the King sat upon his throne with his wife at his side and looked over the dwindling numbers of the members of his court and kingdom. The merchant, present with his wife, had been looking around in hopes of seeing any glimpses of his children when the king rose from his throne and broke the silence, "We have suffered a great loss this day. I can only express my deepest condolences for those who have lost loved ones but I think we know what had brought this ill fate upon us." His hand darted out in front of him, pointing an accusing finger at the merchant and two knights promptly grabbed the man from behind and brought him forward to throw him to the ground before the King's feet. "You have betrayed us! You are a fraud and a liar! Your blessing was no more than a curse," the King hollered at him.

"What have I done to offend you, your majesty? Had I not given you my sons whom I was told were to be blessed like myself? Have they failed you? If so then it is not my doing, but theirs," the merchant pleaded his case before the king as he looked up at the infuriated man whose face was now as red as the beard that covered his jaw.

"Your sons have done more than failed us," the king snapped at the merchant, making the man wince and pull himself closer to the ground, "Whereas one had died, which I can forgive, the other was merely bitten. Under the influence of that bite he turned and did far more damage than anyone could have imagined. Your eldest had potential, he had strength, and instead he turned and cut his fellow men down like twigs with the very blade Sir Vincent had taught him to wield! Your survival can now only be explained through witchcraft and you have used it to take advantage of me and my generosity!"

"I have not sold my soul to the devil! I have been a faithful man of GOD for all my life," the merchant was now crying and shaking with the uncertainty of what the king had in store for him and confused as to why GOD would bless him and not his children. He had taught them to worship GOD and the church since they were infants and was a devote Christian himself.

"Enough!" The King's words roared through the throne room and the world fell silent, only the soft sobbing of the merchant fearing for his life and the cries of his wife for the life of their children hovered in the air.

When those deep grey eyes looked upon the merchant, a clenched jaw and a deep breath silenced those sounds as well as the King looked down upon the shaking man, "You have been my friend for these many years and I cannot bring myself to end your life. But for your betrayal to me and this kingdom I hereby banish you and your wife from my kingdom. May whatever GOD that allowed you to survive the massacre of that village years ago, allow you to live past these walls."

The heavy thunder of iron gates closing behind them was the last thing the merchant and his wife would ever hear of their former home, the last day of guaranteed safety and comfort and now the two were to fend for themselves in a world full of monsters and nightmares that would hunt them in the darkness. Rainclouds had gathered over head earlier that day and the clap of thunder welcomed them to their new lives as heavy drops of rain splashed against their bodies. His young wife, still weeping over their loss, followed behind him and stumbled over loose dirt.

~~~~

Her petite hands slapped against the hard surface of the desert ground as the wind picked up and blew sand into their faces. With her in position, the four men fell back to take cover amongst the abandoned shacks and vehicles of a place that would have once been called a vibrant town in the heart of the barren wasteland; its only purpose now was to collect dust and slowly rot into a ghost of its former self. The youngest of the men paused on occasion to look over his shoulder and then to the figure kneeling in on the ground, her dirt stained plain beige dress hanging off her body loosely and blowing softly in the wind while her short sandy blond hair appeared not to move an inch, only softly brush against the nape of her neck when the wind picked up a little more strength.

"Hurry up," one of the older men snapped and the young man rushed to join them, taking refuge with the one that called him behind a former market whose window still claimed they had the best jam in all of Jericho. The other two men were positioned and ready behind another building just across the empty road, clutching their guns close. One was checking over the condition of his gun, and the other looking up to the sky to watch the light fade behind the horizon. The youngest couldn't help but look around the corner to check on the girl, left exposed to the oncoming danger unarmed and remaining motionless with her head bowed and shoulders slumped forward. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back, "Keep your damn head out of sight." The leader scolded and cocked his rifle before nodding to the young man to do the same, which he did with shaking hands. This was his first hunt and he had volunteered for it the moment he had turned eighteen earlier that week.

"Won't be long now," Elmer spoke in a low grunt, his voice hoarse from years of smoking and life's overall hardships, "a scout said a vamp was spotted around these parts just last week. Jeremy, dammit kid, cocking your gun won't do shit if you keep the safety on!"

Jeremy looked down at his pump action Remington and fumbled to turn the safety off, his blood pumping with adrenaline and the anticipation of shooting his first vampire. "So that girl," he finally spoke with his gun ready, "do we just leave her?"

Elmer closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the still town, hearing the crunching of sand beneath their feet and the soft flaps of fabric coming from the beige dress, "That's the plan."  
>Jeremy licked his lips before he asked "What if she gets bit?"<p>

"She always does," Was the reply and Elmer held his breath as a new sound made itself present, sharp claws scratching against the hard ground and a low growl as the creature approached what could potentially be its next meal. The girl's body froze up as the sound grew closer, knowing what was about to come next. The vampire bared its teeth as it stopped its advancement and let out a roar before it sprinted towards the figure in its path. Its feet slapped against the ground as it closed the gap between it and the frozen figure in the road, body glistening in the moonlight and its teeth bared, ready to be plunged into tender, warm flesh.

"Now!" Elmer pushed past Jeremy and fired the first round at the creature, the other two men coming from their covers and following his lead. The beast howled as bullets pierced its muscular form but that did little to affect its speed and it pushed off its hind legs to attack the girl from above and temporarily escape the cascade of bullets fired upon it. A mighty thunder clapped through the air and the beast fell next to the ground with a heavy thud, the projectile from a pump action making a clear wound in its head.

Jeremy stood half paralyzed with fear and astonishment at what had just happened, his gun still clasped tightly in his grip as Elmer lowered his rifle and clapped him on the shoulder with all his strength, "Great shot kid! Alright boys, let's drag her back to the jeep and head home. Tonight we drink to the birthday boy!"

The drive back to Salem was a celebratory one, with the other three men of the hunting party constantly complimenting Jeremy on his once in a life time shot - one shot right through the head. Elmer had even checked his barrel to confirm that the kid had used one shot and one shot only. As they drove up to the hunting cabin Elmer and Jeremy volunteered to stay behind to put the guns and bait away as the other two headed home to give their wives and children a kiss and hold them tightly in their arms, letting them know that they were all safe for another night. As Jeremy gathered all the guns and ammunition from the beat up jeep, Elmer opened the back and pulled the catatonic girl from the vehicle, sparing no time to drag her into the cabin and throw her into the room which had been modified to meet her basic of needs. He made no eye contact with her even as he closed the door and locked it before opening the feeding slot and shoving in a roll of bread and a cup of water, most of it splashing onto the ground and getting soaked into the floorboard. Since he had taken charge of the hunting party, he was responsible for the wellbeing of the bait girl, which was a hard thing to do. The most he ever dared to do was look at her long enough to know the thing couldn't be any older than in her early twenties. Dragging her place to place had told him everything he needed to know about her figure; everything about her was thin and tiny and they kept her hair short for the simple fact no vampire claws could get tangled in it which would make it harder to get the blasted thing off of her once it was good and dead.

Jeremy sat in the other room, passing an apple between his hands while in deep thought. Elmer watched him for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to the small table sitting under the window to grab a flask of locally made whiskey, "You keep handling that fruit like that it's going to be all bruised and ruined by the time you take your first bite. Wouldn't want to waste a rare birthday present like that now, would you?"

"I wonder if she likes apples," Jeremy whispered to himself as he continued to pass the fruit from hand to hand.

"She?" Elmer raised an eyebrow before closing his eyes tight from the sting of the alcohol running down his throat which caused him to cough a bit. The batch was strong and sour, nothing like the good stuff they keep in the closed off cities.

"The girl," Jeremy nodded his head in the direction of the other room where the girl was being held until they would need her again.

"We don't talk about her," Elmer pressed his lips together tight, screwing the cap back on his flask and placing it gently on the table in a fluid motion that instantly directed Jeremy's attention to the man's entire body language. His back had stiffened up and his muscles were noticeably tense and the way he decided to fiddle with the placement of the flask was a desperate grab to find something else to focus his mind on.

"Elmer, she's a young girl. How we treat her is nowhere near to human. I mean if the pastor knew exactly what we were doing I'm sure he would have a word or two to say about it-"

"It was the pastor's idea in the first place," the older man snapped and glared at the now silent and startled young man who sat only feet away from him. He had stopped passing the apple about and it now sat still in his hand, no longer filling the air with the sound of its crisp, hollow sounding flesh being tossed between palms.

He shook his head clasped his rough hand over his mouth and dragged it down, feeling the day's stubble against his chin as an exasperated breath flew through his nose, "It was a long time ago, kid. Hell, you were nothing but a child yourself. This stranger came through the town one day with this kid, couldn't have been more than eight years old and he had her leashed like some wild dog. Pastor Reynolds was the first to approach the man and demanded his reasons for treating the girl like that." Elmer paused to look up and saw Jeremy staring straight at him, not having moved an inch since he snapped at him. The legs of a chair screeched across the wooden floor as he pulled out a seat for himself and leaned back to reclaim the flask he had spent so much time fiddling with over on the tabletop.

"Stranger told 'em that he had found her in a town called Babel. He was passing through to see if he could scavenge anything that might bring him a quick buck – see the town was attacked by vampires a few nights before so he felt he would be doing no harm take'n a few things. What he didn't expect to find was a survivor, and a young girl nonetheless. She had a clear bite mark on her neck but looked like any other kid who just watched her entire town get massacred. Her parents too, probably. Long story short, he was look'n to sell her for whatever price he could get. So the old Pastor did what any sensible man would do - he used whatever he could collect from the Church's donation collections and whatever other rations he could scrounge up and bought the child. Damn if he didn't also promise her a good life here too."

There was a pause as Elmer lifted the flask to his mouth and tilted it so far back that he didn't take the time to breath between gulps of sour whiskey.

"Then what happened?" Jeremy finally spoke, his mouth gone dry and curiosity eager to hear more.

With the flask polished dry, Elmer bit his lip and held down grunt in response to the familiar burn, "That night there was a vamp attack."

Jeremy's eyes widened and he took a sharp inhale.

"Yeah you remember that night; it was the night your sister died. We had sent a hunting party out that night to follow up on a vampire sighting. However, by the time they were due back, that damn pack had caught us all off guard. Lots of good people died that night. Lots of good people."

Silence filled the room, an unexpected moment of mourning between the two of them, the occasional sound of a dog barking from outside faint in the background.

He cleared this throat after wiping away a tear with his wrist before continuing, "After it was all done, the pastor had called for a meeting of all the survivors. Something in him changed. The light in his eyes had been taken away and what was looking back at us with a look on his face I had never seen him wear before. He was probably getting ready to accept what he was gonna do and in order to do that he would have to put his humanity aside for the greater good of it all. That's when he presented the girl, a scrawny thing with dirty blond hair and the biggest brown eyes you'd ever seen on a child. She was covered in blood from a bite mark on her shoulder and everyone took a step back fearing she was gonna turn but there was no sign of it ever happening. Pastor told us that a vampire managed to rip through the door of the church and attacked his pregnant wife before he could lead the three of them into the cellar for safety. The girl was with him when it happened and after calling to his wife he dashed across the room to grab the rifle he kept loaded behind the pedestal. The vampire heard him move and was about to grab him next when the girl screamed and the thing turned and latched onto her instead. Gave him enough time to retrieve the gun and shoot the thing dead. Sad to say, he had lost his wife and unborn child but when he discovered the girl was relatively unharmed, only a wound on her shoulder to prove she was attacked, he came to a grim conclusion that she would be used to save ourselves from any future attacks. It was not an easy decision to make but we all agreed to it."

The air in the room had grown incredibly heavy and Jeremy remained still and quiet, half expecting the story to continue but also unable to understand the unsettling mix of guilt from learning that his safety all these years relied on the dehumanization of a young woman and her unwilling sacrifice. Now as a member of the hunting party, he was burdened with this truth and did not need to be told that it was a secret that needed to stay hidden from the generation entering adulthood. Only the survivors and the hunters would be cursed with this knowledge.

"Jeremy," Elmer looked at him and pocketed the empty flask before he leaned forward with the intent to comfort the young man. Before he had the chance to, however, the door opened and one of the members of the hunting party poked his head through, out of breath and panic in his voice.

"We got trouble. There's a pack heading this way. That rouge vamp was a scout and the damn things must have followed the tire tracks back here."

Elmer shot from his seat, the chair flipping over in his haste as he ran to the cabinet and grabbed his rifle to follow the other man out and prepare for battle. Just before he crossed the threshold of the doorway, he turned back to Jeremy, who had already retrieved his pump action Remington, cocked and checked to make sure the safety was off, "Use her if you have to, kid."

It hit him suddenly as the world outside erupted in explosion of screams, horror and nightmares sending Jeremy back 12 years into the past, remembering the small boy huddled in the deepest corner of the underground shelter of his home and hearing the terrified screams of his parents and older sister trying to fight off the monsters that invaded their home, hearing his parents call out for each other and cry out when his sister was overcome. He never saw the carnage but he held his breath as the blood trickled through the floorboard above and collected into tiny red puddles. His movements were reactionary as he headed towards the holding room and threw the door open, holding his rifle to the girl who looked up at him startled and fragile in the poor light. "Move. Come on, move out," he commanded and kept his eye on her as she got up and did as she was told. Once she was within reach, he lunged forward and grabbed her thin wrist to pull her into the main room and push her towards the door. Her body stiffened at the sound of screams and snarls around them and she let out a shaking breath before turning to face the young man who had backed away from her with his gun at the ready. 

"Don't look at me like that. Turn around and face the door!" His voice cracked in his state of panic.

She faced forward instantly, standing still and not looking at the door in case a vampire ripped through it; she would much rather just feel the weight of the beast and the sharp sting of its teeth sinking into her body than watch it coming at her and anticipating the inevitable.

They stood like that for what felt like forever, his finger never leaving the trigger as he compulsively licked his lips. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered at last, praying she was listening to him, "I know it ain't right, but it works."

The glass behind him shattered and the full weight of a vampire collided against him, sending Jeremy crashing onto the table, sending silverware and flasks scattering across the ground as the predator wasted no time to feast upon its fresh kill. The gun went off before he hit the floor, missing the girl entirely but close enough to elicit a scream from her as she brought her arms up to shield her head. The scream had caught the vampire's attention and it looked up in her direction, blood smeared all over its mouth and let out a feverish roar as it left the drained corpse of Jeremy behind and advanced towards her. Stricken with fear, the girl slowly edged her way towards the wall until she felt the cold wood press against her back. The beast gave no warning before it leaped at her and she managed to dodge the attack just in time to fumble towards the ground a few feet away. The creature crashed through the wooden panels of the wall but turned right around to sniff her out and opened its mouth to bare its fangs before making another leap at her. As the beast ascended from above, she reached out to snatch a carving blade that had fallen to the floor from its earlier attack and she prepared herself for the worst, crying out when she felt the full force of the attack upon her small frame.

The heavy clunk of boots upon a wooden porch as dust and ash danced around was the only sound the stranger made as he took his time to inspect the devastation of what was left of Salem. His black coat remained motionless as he stalked through piles of splintered wood and stepped over the corpses and bits of flesh left behind, not even paying attention to the dried puddles of red sand that shifted under his feet. Taking in a deep breath, he relished in the scent of another successful battle won in the war between man and vampire and smiled, the sunlight catching his fangs at just the right angle to make them shine. A black scorched hat cast his face in shadow, making him a figure of almost pure darkness even in the daunting afternoon sun. As he passed a shed with a broken window he paused for a moment and turned his head towards the open door, standing absolutely still for only a moment before making his way inside. A broken table, glass and silverware littered the floor and within the clutter were two bodies. Or, at least, what appeared to be two on first glance. Under the shattered window was a dried up corpse of a young man and just feet away, hidden in shadow and protected by the sunlight was the body of a fallen vampire. The black stranger approached it and quickly turned it over, pushing it into the sunlight were it quickly shrivelled up and fell apart into a pile of ash. Trapped beneath it was a young girl, a blade carefully poised upright upon her breast and covered in the beast's blood. Her body was still although her breathe was shaky as she looked at him with her large brown eyes and seemingly ignoring the obvious bite wounds and claw marks that had begun to scab over sometime in the night. The black stranger looked at her curiously, his keen predatory, yellow eyes taking in everything before he reached out and grabbed her.


	3. Oath

His footsteps were soft against sand dusted floor of the wooden house, careful not to step on any shattered glass or disturb the smears of blood that riddled what once was someone's home. Another night passed, another town slaughtered and he was starting to see too many of these scenarios to calm even his hardened hunter's heart. The only thing that made being in this town and others before it easier was to not try to figure out exactly which pools of blood belonged to which body and it was even better when the corpses were sucked dry. Over time, the town would look like all the others; the bodies left would be dragged away by coyotes, vultures and other scavengers until only the town remained standing with its broken glass and splintered wood to show that it had come to a violent end.

"These attacks are getting more common," his partner commented as she brushed past him and ventured into one of the rooms. Her boot kicked across a small patch of ash that they both knew was once a vampire. The priest did not reply, letting his gaze search the area instead, inspecting every scratch and blood mark hoping these patterns would tell him a story of how it all happened within these walls. Shattered glass marked where the creature had come through and the body was its main victim. But the blood that lay on the floor was the curious bit to him. The corpse was drained and the splatters and small pools were so far from where the boy was. There had to be a second occupant. "Come here," the priestess called out to him from the other room. He looked down at the blood a final time before making his way to join his partner by her side but once he got there he stopped the door frame and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. From what he could make out past the shadows there were a few items and a cage that held them. The priestess approached the cage and opened the door. Iron hinges creaked in protest as she entered the tiny room and looked around, "They were keeping someone here. A familiar, maybe?"

The priest closed his eyes for a moment, "Would explain the blood on the floor. The corpse on the other side of the room is dry so it had to come from another body and chances are good that if it was a familiar they would have probably taken them with them as they retreated."

The priestess nodded in silence as she let her eyes examine the cage and pressed a hand against the wall. She opened her mouth to agree with his theory when an odor caught her attention and she sniffed the air to catch it once more. There was a sour smell coming from a particular place in the cage and something told her she needed to find it. Acting like a hunting dog, she sniffed her way around the corners of the place and noticed it was coming from the watering bowl - or rather under it. Lifting the bowl, she turned her head quickly after catching the full extent of the odor and coughed.

"What is it?" her partner asked and approached the cage to meet with her inside.

She coughed once more, "There's rotten food. Uh, it's absolutely rancid."

That's when he moved his head to look over her shoulder. She was right; there had been a small stash of food left to rot under the watering bowl with its hollowed bottom. "Familiars only eat fresh meat. Why would it store food and leave it to rot?"

Holding her breath, the priestess poked and prodded at the pile of spoiled meat and discovered other types of food sitting amongst it, equally in poor condition; bread, potatoes, and bits so old that they were now hardly recognizable.

"What is going on here?" She finally spoke as she took a few steps back to catch a breath of fresh air, "This is not familiar behavior. They despise the scent of rotten flesh."

"Maybe it's to keep familiars away," the priest suggested and turned around quickly to the other room where the mysterious blood remained. Quickly, he plunged his fingers into the pool, smelled it and held his hand into the sunlight. This blood dried up instantly upon his skin. So pool number one was vampire blood. He repeated the action with the second pool and found the same result. Time and time again, these tests all came out the same but when he had dipped his finger into a smaller pool that lay just as his feet, this was unchanging. This blood had to be human.

"I think they were keeping someone in there. A human but for whatever reason, I don't think we'll ever know. They either died or were taken away and would be changed by now."

The priestess stood silently behind him in shock at his findings and final verdict on the strange room, "Who would keep someone locked up like an animal? This town has a proper jail like any other so what was the purpose of this?"

The priest stood up and wiped the blood off his fingers with his coat. "I want you to follow the tracks from this town and see where they lead to. If you do not find anything that tells they originate from a hive in two days, meet me in Houden. By then you should also know their attack routes given from where the tracks lead you."

"Wait, what about you?"

He headed for the door and only stopped when he had gotten to the threshold look at her, "I'm going to find Lucy and see if she's alright. With vampire attacks on the rise, I want to make sure my daughter safe."

As much good as the sun was doing with drying out the daily laundry, it was making it quiet difficult to keep her eyes open, even if it was just barely daybreak but these outdoor activities had to be finished as quickly as possible before the threat of nightfall came to announce the end of their hours of safety. You never knew which night would be your last so things that needed to be done were done as fast and as early as possible. A small wind picked up, staining the white cloth with sand and dirt until every article of clothing was earth coloured. She let out a disgruntled sigh and bit her bottom lip, finishing the laundry as fast as possible with every movement reflecting her frustration. Once, she owned a white dress but life and certain events from her past had scorched, stained and torn the fabric until there was nothing left to save. With the last piece of clothing pinned to the clothes line, Lucy grabbed her basket and headed inside just before a harsher wind blew across the barren soil. The town she lived in echoed with the chorus of doors and windows slamming as people retreated to avoid the temporary sand storm.

Closing the door behind her, she spat out a lock of hair that had found its way past her lips along with some grains of sand. The house was silent. Only the sound of the wind filled the empty pockets of air as she stood against the door and closed her eyes momentarily. With the wind came another sound she was not sure she had heard before and after a moment she dismissed it as some bits of debris from a shed or elsewhere brushing up against the house. Then there was a knock at the door. Startled, she gasped and nearly lunged across the room and stared at the door, wondering who would be crazy enough to wander about in the middle of a dust storm when they knocked again. This time the knocking would not stop and she rushed for the door to open it, thinking that it was actually someone trapped out there and looking for shelter. Quickly, she opened the door and closed her eyes to protect them from the sand as she reached out to grab the stranger and pull him inside so she could close the door again. Lucy felt the leather beneath her fingers and how cracked it was with age and abuse as she pulled them inside and with the door closed, she had a moment to think about who it may be. She didn't have to think for long.

"Hello, Lucy," a man's voice said to her softly, hiding the subdued want and guilt the tone of his voice carried.

"Why did you come here?" Lucy didn't even turn around as she asked. She kept her forehead pressed against the door and felt a great weight fall upon her, recognizing the voice.

There was silence for a moment. Neither of them moved. "I wanted to make sure you were safe," the priest finally replied and took a step forward but Lucy pushed herself from the door and quickly walked out of his way, avoiding him completely. "I'm fine. Now go."

Pausing, the priest shut his blue eyes to hide the hurt and the realization that after all this time of protecting her and wanting to be with her, he had done what he was striving not to do after her ordeal with Black Hat, "Lucy, please. I just wanted to see if you were safe. I'm your father after all –"

"And with that knowledge you expect me to welcome you with open arms after disappearing for a year?" There was rage in her voice but she kept her tone low and fought to keep it that way, "Is that what I am to expect from you? You were nothing more than a story my entire life. Then you come back and right when I discover my uncle is truly my father you leave me again. And now you show up once more just to see I'm alright. Well. Use your eyes and now that you have your answer I want you to leave." Her body was shaking as tears swelled in her grey eyes and fell onto her pale cheeks and as much as he wanted to reach out and wipe them away, he knew best not to make any sudden movements. Even though it hurt seeing his daughter enraged and ransacked with such hate for him, the priest could not blame her for all the cruel things she said. His shoulders dropped in defeat and he lowered his head, "Lucy-"

A child's cry cut him off and he looked up instantly towards the empty hallway, his heart stopping at the sound. Lucy's eyes widened and her tears stopped flowing as she turned her head as well and looked to him, almost showing guilt upon her behalf now.

"A child?" He asked, looking at his daughter who stood there briefly before nodding.  
>"Yes. Your granddaughter." <p>

Not another word was said with the understanding that she had to leave the room to tend to her duties as a young mother and sooth the crying child. But what he didn't expect was for her to return with the infant cradled in her arms and looking at him with those doe like eyes that sparkled with dwindling glimmers of hope, "Alice. Her name is Alice."

The priest was awestruck by the child and how much she looked like her mother at that age, the final time he had seen his daughter before the convent took him in and she was forced to live out her life without truly knowing who her father was. Slowly, the child calmed down and cooed against her mother's breast and grasped at the clothing before turning to look at the stranger with large brown eyes. The crown of her head was graced with silken ginger locks and rosy, chubby cheeks painted an image of perfection.

"She's beautiful," he whispered and was unaware his feet were guiding him to Lucy's side to get a better look at the infant and to reach out to stroke her face softly with a single finger. The child continued to look at him.

"When you left, Hicks and I got engaged. Then, we were blessed with Alice," Lucy smiled and fought back another wave of tears, never taking her eyes off the child in her arms, but this time they were out of happiness instead of disappointment.

"Where is Hicks now?"

"He's the town sheriff. Storm will keep him inside till it passes," her voice dropped and she looked up at her father, realizing that the storm would probably not hold out for long, "Tell me the real reason why you came here."

The priest stroked the child's face a few more times, smiling when she reached out to suck on his finger before looking up at his daughter with a straight face, "There's been a string of vampire attacks that have been happening more and more frequently. Whole towns wiped out in the span of a night."

A sharp breath was sucked in as Lucy caught her father's eye and knew what that solemn expression meant, causing her to instantly hold the baby closer to her breast, "You don't think-"

"I'm positive he didn't perish in the wreckage and this wave of activity seems appropriate for him. Lucy, he might come after you again."

"No. No, no it can't happen! What will I do if that-"

He reached out and held her frail shoulders under his strong grasp, an overwhelming surge of possessive protection flooding his body after seeing the sudden wave of panic overcome her, "Lucy, I swear to you. I will do everything in my power to make sure you and Alice will be safe. Nothing will harm the two of you. You have my word." Inching closer, he dropped his voice to a whisper and stroked his daughter's face, their eyes meeting for the first time as father and daughter in the most sincere of emotions, "I will not abandon you ever again. You have to trust me."

Her eyes shut and she nodded, holding a breath as she did so and neither did she try to shy away from his touch, "Alright."

They stood in silence; even the child was quiet as they shared this fleeting moment together before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead and gave the child one as well before leaving the house and closing the door behind him.


End file.
